Page 38 of One Shot

“Lose the jersey, Captain. We need these calendar sales and need to give the people what they want.”

“Oh? And what is it they want?” Lucas asks, taking off the garment.

I am glad to see nothing underneath it. His perfect Greek God body, with his defined V in all its glory.

“Sexy Wyverns with abs galore. This might be a lot to ask because it’s going to be cold. But could you lay on the ice? I put a towel down, but we need to make sure that you can’t see it.”

He lays down on the small hand towel. I scrunch up some of the towel to hide under him so it’s not visible for the camera, brushing his sides with my hands.

“Sorry, is it okay if I adjust things and put some oil on you? It’s probably going to be a little cold.”

He nods. I squirt some baby oil on him and laugh as it goes on his abs, the ice next to him, and seemingly everywhere.

“Oops, I guess I should have just put it on my hands instead.”

“You made a huge mess,” he declares.

I squat down next to him on the ice and rub the oil into his body, starting with his arms and chest. I was right when I first saw him in the bar. My two hands together can’t fit around his sculpted arms.

The cold radiates off the ice, but I’m so mesmerized and heated from rubbing his muscular body that I don’t shiver at all. This is alot more intimate than I thought it would be. I move down his body, feeling each dip and curve of his abs while I run my hands over each one. They really are as hard as a rock.

“Sorry, I just have to get a little lower.”

Why am I making this so uncomfortable and apologizing? I should have just had him do it himself, but I can’t change course now. My hands outline the V at the base of his torso. My body betrays me, growing damp with desire in response as I unnecessarily trace his V with my index and middle finger two times. “Really have to rub it in,” I mumble. Great. He probably thinks I’m creepy now. I stand up and wipe my hands on one of the extra towels I brought.

“Okay, great, looks great.” This is one of those moments I would love to just put my head in my hands. Can this make this anymore awkward?

I grab his jersey and a hockey stick.

“Okay so, hold the hockey stick behind your head, slightly above it. Flex your arm muscles. I’ll lay your jersey so we can see your number slightly.”

He eagerly follows my instructions.

“Okay, how is this?” Lucas asks.

My body betrays me again, going from damp to lustfully wet between my thighs as I take in the view of Lucas. I know I’ve said he looks like a Greek God, but he really looks like he just walked out ofHercules.

I try to form words, but they don't come out. I end up making a weird noise and just nod. I clear my throat.

“I am going to take some from a slightly left angle and then slightly right. I’ll move your jersey to the right side for that. Then I’ll take some from above.”

“Got it, Chip.”

I start snapping photos from the left side.

“Look right at the camera, like you did in the mock photoshoot when you skated towards me. Yes, perfect.”

Fire lights up his eyes, burning brown with golden embers. That’s the look I want, like he is going to consume me whole if I let him. By the way my body responds to his look, I would certainly let him.

Trying to focus, I go to the other side. After twenty shots with the same fiery, longing look. I need to take the last shots from above, which means standing on my tiptoes with one leg on each side of him. I move the jersey again so his number is slightly visible to the side.

I stand over him, peering down at his deliciously oiled body. I snap a few pictures and can’t help but smile. I rise up on my tiptoes to get a higher angle.

I instantly slip.

I forgot I made a mess with the oil. I’m on top of him with my body pressed against his slick, oiled torso. At least he isn’t wearing those thin sweatpants.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asks, trying to sit up with me on top of him, but he slips on the oil and lays right back down, leading to me falling on top of him again.

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